


This way lies madness

by Anonymous



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Sexual Tension, Step-Brothers, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 06:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18277766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tyler reasons that he's never claimed to be a good person.





	This way lies madness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Batblood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batblood/gifts).



The truth is, falling for just about anyone else, would have always been the better choice; maybe if Josh wasn't his stepbrother, there could be a chance of it actually turning into something more than just the tension that they've both gotten good at ignoring.

But he is, so that's not something that will ever happen.

Somewhere between the haze of hormones and inevitable heartbreak, Tyler has come to terms with that, so he deals and he _wants_ and he buries his shame under the rest of the skeletons in their shared closet.

The shower turns off just as Tyler plugs in the clippers. His eyes automatically stray to the curtain when Josh opens it. He wordlessly tosses him a towel from the bathroom counter and doesn't even bother being discreet as he watches him run it briefly through his hair and over his body.

Tyler stares and Josh takes longer than necessary to secure it loosely around his waist.

He turns the clippers on and makes the first pass through his partially grown-out buzz cut.

"What are you doing later?" Josh asks, suddenly behind him.

"Jesus," Tyler mumbles, "you could have made me accidentally take off an eyebrow or something." Josh smiles at him in the mirror's reflection, and Tyler kind of no longer cares about the close call.

"There's a party at Brent's, you should come with."

"As fun as it is to watch your friends get wasted and hit on anything with a pulse, I'll pass." Tyler fails to fight back the flush that washes over his shirtless torso when Josh presses closer and reaches around him to grab his pack of cigarettes.

He lights one and takes a drag. "Here, let me get the back," he says low and close to his ear, trading him the cigarette for the clippers. Their eyes meet in the mirror before he gets to work. "You know I'm only gonna be home for another few weeks, right?"

And that's the exact thing Tyler doesn't want to be reminded of right now, but he brushes it off and huffs. "And you know that the guilt trip line only works on mom, right?"

The innocent facade fades fast from Josh's face. "Just admit it, you're gonna miss me."

"You wish."

When the clippers are shut off a couple of minutes later, Josh reaches around him again to put them down. His eyes are soft, a fond smile on his lips as he uses both hands to start knocking the strands of loose hair from where they've fallen on Tyler's shoulders and back. 

Every swipe of his large palms, makes Tyler squirm against the front of the counter. "Your friends don't want your little brother hanging around."

"We're only two years apart, Ty. And who even gives a shit anyway. I want you there," Josh murmurs the last part, and when he turns him around to get his chest as well, the brush of something firm against his own hard-on, is quick enough that they can pretend it never happened. Josh steps back once he's finished, taking the cigarette, that's now nearly burned down to the filter, from in between Tyler's fingers and starts for the bathroom door. "Hurry up and get ready, burning rubber in fifteen."

He's hastily washing come down the shower drain three minutes later.

-

Tyler reasons that he's never claimed to be a good person.

If he was, he'd turn over and go back to sleep, ignoring the sounds coming from the bed just a few feet away from his. It took all of two hours for him to abandon the party and walk home, another three for Josh to stumble back in with the same guy that Tyler saw him dancing with.

He's not going to read into the fact that the dude could possibly pass as his twin.

The room is quiet again when Josh opens his nightstand drawer to grab the bottle of lube and a condom. "Turn over onto your stomach," he hears him whisper in a wrecked tone that Tyler's never heard before.

He's so hard it hurts.

There's enough light filtering in through the curtains for him to easily make out their shapes as they shuffle around. Josh is naked, sitting back on his knees, in-between the guy's spread legs, kneading his ass with both hands.

By the time he's slipping a second long and thick finger in, Tyler's resolve finally breaks, boxers are bunched at his ankles, hand tightly wrapped around his dick. He can't help it; Tyler could write pornographic sonnets about Josh's fingers, about how perfectly they would stretch and fill him in ways that his own inexperienced ones could never do. 

There's a long groan. "So fucking tight," Josh hisses. "Can't wait to get inside of you." And then a firmer, "Do you think you can be good for me and take another?"

"Yeah–yes," the guy says into the pillow, "please."

"Such a good boy,” Josh praises, his other hand running over the guy’s back.

Tyler's spit-slick hand moves faster at the words. There's a sharp exhale passing his lips and then Josh is looking straight at him, eyes wide. Josh doesn't stop what he's doing though, so Tyler doesn't either. Sometimes late at night, the sounds of mutual ragged breaths and slapping skin fill the air in their bedroom, and that's just become another thing they don't talk about.

But this, this is different; they never look, never watch.

The gaze on him turns heated– _hungry_ , and Tyler's body is on fire.

"I'm ready, come on," the writhing body under Josh pleads.

Eyes still locked, Josh says, "Show me."

Tyler _knows_. He knows the words are meant for them both. The guy fucks back against the fingers as Tyler pushes his sheet down past his thighs so Josh can see. The cool air hits his damp skin but it's not much of a relief when there's still two points of heat on him:

Josh's eyes tracking every movement.

His left hand runs up his stomach, over the baby fat that's still clinging to it, and doesn't stop until he gets a nipple in-between his fingers. He closes his eyes, rolls it and chews on his bottom lip, trying to stay quiet; there's still an unknowing party in this secret threesome.

He hears a stuttered _fuck_ , doesn't even know who it came from.

A few whispered words don't reach his ears before the unmistakable sound of foil crinkling. When he turns his head again, Josh is bracing himself over the guy's back, asking him if he's okay. One of the guy's hands is gripping the sheet while the other stays fisted in the pillow as Josh pushes his hips forward, sliding into him more. His hands shoot out to hold the boy's hips in place and then bottoms out.

There's a collective moan.

Tyler watches in fascination, eyes heavy and lidded, his hand moving on it's own accord. His other fingers are still working his nipple, now tugging at it a little more harshly. He let's a soft groan slip out just as Josh starts to move in a slow, teasing pace.

He lowers himself, works an arm underneath the guy's chest and pulls him up some until their bodies are flush.

Tyler wants to sob, wants that to be him held tightly under Josh's strong, lithe body. This should hurt more than it does, but he's nearly out of his mind with the need to come, that he can't care too much.

Tomorrow he'll repress, and they'll both act like it didn't happen in the first place.

Except the way Josh is looking at him again, is going to make that _really_ fucking difficult. He looks gone, his brown eyes dark with lust as they meet his own, and Tyler imagines that he doesn't look too different himself. Josh tightens his grip on the boy as he continues to move, picking up speed quickly.

"Yes, fuck," the guy moans.

A high whine gets swallowed in Tyler's throat, hand on his dick speeding up with every word and grunt being pulled from him.

"You wanna come for me soon?" Josh asks, and Tyler nods at the same time that he hears another desperate _please_.

"Not yet, hold on." Josh roughly pulls at the guy's hips, getting him onto his knees.

His orgasm doesn't take long to build. Tyler's so close, _been_ close, legs opened wide at the knees, toes grabbing the sheets as sparks of heat spread up the arch of his back as he fucks wildly into his fist.

He makes a choked sound, doesn't even bother holding back, and then hears Josh say, "Come, _now_ ," and that's just what he does, eyes screwed shut, grunting when warm streaks of white shoot across his stomach. His body falls flat to the bed, the noises next to him ceasing not long after.

He lays completely still, not sure what else to do as Josh cleans himself and his guest up. His brother, thank God, isn't exactly the let's cuddle and talk type, so the guy is dressed and leaving a few minutes later.

Tyler tries his best to clean the come off of his stomach with his boxers. Like maybe if he doesn't do the walk of shame to their bathroom, he can write off the past twenty minutes as just a glitch in the matrix.

Josh makes a contented sound when he settles into Tyler's bed next to him, instead of going back to his own. They're both sitting against the headboard, looking ahead. Josh pulls the cigarette out from behind his ear and lights it, ashtray balanced on his stretched out legs. The silence could be awkward, probably should be as they pass it back and forth.

"What you said in the bathroom today...I will," Tyler eventually says.

"Huh?"

Tyler leans his head back, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Miss you." He turns to look Josh's way when he feels his eyes on him.

"I know."

Those two words instantly break the tension around them. Tyler jabs an elbow into Josh's side. "Don't Han Solo me, dick." He smiles, and gets one back.

"I'm gonna miss you too," Josh says, and there's something leaking into the tone, like he wishes the words could be something more, _should_ say something different.

Tyler can see the war he's having with himself over it, so he decides to squash it for him and says, as he playfully pushes Josh closer to the edge of the bed, "Yeah, yeah. I'm going to sleep. Go away."

There's nothing more that _can_ be said anyway, as they both lay on their sides, facing each other. Whatever this thing is that they're dancing around, will leave with Josh in seven weeks. These aren't stories they can tell over Thanksgiving dinners in the future, or will become an inside joke they're allowed to divulge at each other's weddings; no, _this_ , will only be shared memories of when they were both temporarily insane.

But as Josh smiles at him in the dark, affectionate and beautiful, he thinks that's something he can definitely live with.


End file.
